César w/daughters & Dimitri - hallways
 

There had been plenty of times over the years, when César's unpredictable temper and razor tongue had gotten him into trouble. Even as a child he had more often than not refused to submit to authority - be it that of his nanny, his parents, or anyone else that would attempt to make him do something that he did not want to do, or not do something he did want to do. It was a behaviour that had stuck with him as he grew older, and it was still part of his character as a grown man. Though by now his methods had long changed into something far more refined than defiantly crossing his little arms and stomping his foot in childlike determination. These days, it often showed itself as a bold unwillingness to submit to someone and their ideas simply because they held a title greater than his, or were otherwise supposed to be superior to him somehow. Though mind you, if the occasion really called for it, and he stood to loose something he valued more than speaking his mind, he would play the game of politics just as well as the next man.
It was just that there didn't happen to be that many things that he valued, and risked loosing, simply because the people he had encountered did not have the power to take away what he already had; his money, his title, his estates, and the most cherished thing of all; his family.

The Duc d'Lorraine might actually be the first real exception. César was very well aware of the man's ties to the King, and so perhaps it was best not to shoot his mouth off too much. For while he resented those that did not fight their own battles, but ran off to seek the aid of a powerful friend or ally, that was an opinion that would hardly make a difference, should the Duc happen to be such a man, and go running to the King and convince him that there was a certain Marquis that needed to be cut down to size.
César doubted such was the case, as the Duc had a reputation for being a man quite capable of holding his own in any disagreement. But still, one could never be too sure.

However, despite his frankness, situations similar to this one did not represent the full extent of the trouble he had gotten himself into over the years. There were other occasions, when his mouth and his temper had gotten him into arguments that only started out with words, but soon developed into actual fights. Though it was always for one of two reasons. Either he'd gotten just a little too much to drink, in which case there was no telling what might set him off. If something would set him off. He might just as well remain a jolly drunk.
Or - and this was something that was bound to set him off, drunk or not - someone had the audacity to make derisive remarks regarding his little but highly beloved family; daughters as well as Joséphine.
Joséphine didn't know it, but there had even been one time when he had challenged a man to a proper duell, for insinuating - for some unfathomable reason - that she had not entered their marital bed a 'pure' lady. Though the fight had not gone beyond that challenge, as the other man had chosen to back down - but it did leave everyone that had been present with the conviction to never insult the Marquis' family.

Luckily, this late afternoon in the Palace of Light and Air, neither drink nor derisive remarks targeting wife and daughters were present, leaving only César's slight problem with authority to color the conversation.

"Take it from a father who knows, Marquis", Duc d'Lorraine said with a chuckle filled with the wisdom older generations tended to claim they had, "you will wish for all the conventions in the world, when your daughters reach the age differentiating a kiss from their pater and a kiss from a boy."

Then he bent down to position himself as close to face to face with Adèle as his height would allow, and continued, much in the same jovial tone of voice he had used when speaking to her earlier;

"I apologise, young one, but I can’t leave these medals to you. But if I see you again, I shall make sure I have a present for you and your sister."

That tone of voice, along with the chuckle given moments earlier, left it obvious that the Duc had not taken it all as seriously as he'd tried to have César think, with his stern words and stoney glances. Apparently, he enjoyed playing games.
Who would've thought?

"I advise you, Duc d'Lorraine", César said, with the smirk from earlier now released to form his lips into a soft curve, partly at the Duc's little display, but also with satisfaction at the simple and somewhat unimaginative reply the man had given him. "... to not mistake encouragement of toddler's joy, for lacking education of future young women. There is, I assure you, a difference."

Dimitri, César & little angels (who want preseeeeeents?)
 

The child’s eyes immediately brightened at the idea of a surprise gift—if her birthday was not around the corner, it only made the prospect of presents all the sweeter. If the children of this generation were anything like his—and really, judging by the Marquis’ sharp-edged pride, some things never changed over time—then the next thought would have been what sort of present he would get her. A doll? A music box? Perhaps she should blurt out what she wanted so he did not make the grievous mistake of getting her a ball or periscope or some other dreary boy-ish present...

The most interesting reaction came after.

He could not tell what dragged her from her daydreams—it may have been nothing so much as the rustle of her father’s coat. But the brightness muted, and caution took its rightful place. Her tiny feet, however slightly, brought her towards the Marquis. Just like her sister, she was sensing something amiss. But ah, how she wanted whatever-it-was...!

Children could be remarkably attuned to their parents. He remembered well the confusion it created in a mind too young to reason out such complexity, and he felt just a little bit guilty for bringing her to this point.

The Marquis, on the other hand, was quite a separate matter. Dimitri straightened himself to find the other’s smile had grown softer, and alas, less readable as a result.

“I advise you, Duc d'Lorraine, to not mistake encouragement of toddler's joy, for lacking education of future young women. There is, I assure you, a difference.”

Whatever amusement this encounter had generated—in a way, it had been a welcome respite from the more tedious conspiracies plaguing Edouard’s court—was slowly ebbing away, leaving only very many dusty memories in its wake.

Perhaps he was being rather pretentious, with all his so-called observations; but Dimitri thought the Marquis refused to recognise, like all parents, that toddlers today would not become girls tomorrow. Such was the paradox of the paterfamilias: to desire to live in the present with his children, yet to have to keep both eyes on their future. Unfortunately, the future had the terrible habit of announcing its presence by slamming its fist into your head when you least expected it.

And, in the end, one missed everything.

But it was not the sort of warning that could be given ahead of time, for it would only be laughed at by a younger generation steeped in its supposed wisdom. It was the sort of warning one could only live through and look back on regrettably.

“Discipline not enforced now only breeds into rebellion later. I am certain you know how that works,” Dimitri was not attempting to bait a response... but he was just a man, with a healthy dose of the same pride the Marquis seemed to have in abundance. Wryness inevitably slipped into his tone. “But you must excuse my scepticism. Perhaps you shall be the one to find the difference that has eluded so many fathers over the centuries.”

He shifted his gaze from daughter to daughter. “Now, as I have promised these little girls presents, would you be so kind as to introduce their names to me? I think it rather inappropriate to label them ‘Girl 1’ and ‘Girl 2’.”

________

((Just a note, just in case-- I'm reeeeally bad at timezones (ironically, since I'm studying them right now), so if we're approaching the end of Fay's 48-hour extension, feel free to wrap it up, Atropa. :D

And does anyone else find it ironic that MERCY, the COURT GOSSIP, is advising Marie-Elisabeth on people who snoop into letters? I'd be careful of that footman...))

(( :omg: Seiza what ARE you suggesting?

8-12 Hours until evening people

Slytherin girl any chance I can get a PM of your scandal?))

César w/ daughters & Dimitri - hallways
 

(((ooc: Sorry it took me a while to respond. Usually when I work the night shift I have the chance to write my post at work (Hey, if all's quiet, I'm alone doing pretty much nothing for 4 hours; writing posts or watching movies is what keeps me awake. ) and then post them when I get home, before I go to sleep. But last night was a really rough one, and I didn't get a chance to write anything, so... Had to do it after my nap.

Ghanima - Fine and dandy with me. )))


For some reason he could not pinpoint - which, frankly, he was getting rather used to by now, as far as Duc d'Lorraine was concerned - it appeared that just as César saw through his little charade, it began to fade. Slowly the mask lifted from the older man's face, leaving it to display something that, to César, could be described as... reserved weariness? Quite possibly it was another mask, but regardless of the authenticity that laid behind, it had been brought about by something that did not come entirely from within. Perhaps it was how despite her initial and unbridled curiousity, Adèle now withdrew from the Duc ever so slightly, with an air of caution replacing the previous intrigued one. Or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that with César having seen through it, there was no longer need for it, nor was it as entertaining.

"Discipline not enforced now only breeds into rebellion later", the older man answered his remark. "I am certain you know how that works."

Those were words that caused yet another change in the Marquis as well, turning the smile on his lips somewhat more acidic, as he clearly caught the gibe. Though for the sake of peace - for the last few straws that remained, before the two men would have passed that one delicate point of no return and used enough venom to infect an acquaintance that so far was built on little else - he kept his mouth shut. For once.

Instead, he simply allowed the Duc to continue, only to find that in the older man's case, the venom had yet to drain.

"But you must excuse my scepticism", he said, in a voice tinged with irony. "Perhaps you shall be the one to find the difference that has eluded so many fathers over the centuries."

Then, as was starting to become a habit of his, he turned his attention to the two little brunettes now both clinging to their father, and looked from one to the other and back again.

"Now," he continued once more, apparently ready to leave the subject of education and upbringing behind, "as I have promised these little girls presents, would you be so kind as to introduce their names to me? I think it rather inappropriate to label them 'Girl 1' and 'Girl 2'."

César, however, had one last thing to say on the matter. Though contrary to what one might've expected to come out of his mouth, it was nothing more than his way of approving of the end of the discussion, and agreeing to disagree. In short; to smooth things over. Not out of fear or resignation, but as a polite gesture, a sign of good will.

"Perhaps", he said, in reference to the comment made about finding that difference spoken of. "Or perhaps it is no more complicated than that our individual perceptions of what exactly discipline entails, simply differ. I would evne go as far as to dare say that is clearly the case."

Having said than, he then turned his attention to his daughters as well, one of whom was tugging eagerly at his arm; Adèle.

"Am I girl one, Papa? Papa? Am I girl one?"

What parent could not help but to chuckle at such childish ardency?

"You are both number one, chéri", César said and picked her up on his other arm, so that there would be no difference in their position to suggest his words were not completely true, and also so that both of them could look at Dimitri without tilting their heads so far back they'd almost break their neck, nor the old man risk breaking a hip for that matter, bending down to face them if they stood on the floor.

His voice took on the playfully matter-of-factly tone often used with children when one wanted to make them feel proud and important.

"You are Adèle one", he explained, "and your sister is Angélique one."

He knew so very well the noisy conflict that was bound to arise, should one girl be made to feel more important than the other. Luckily, the love as a father and all the time he spent with the girls, had made him a natural - at least as much of a natural as a man could be - at keeping the peace.

And so, with both parties merrily satisfied at each being number one, César could turn his attention back to Duc d'Lorraine.

"As you may have guessed by now, this little beauty is Adèle, and this little beauty here is Angélique", he said, nodding at each girl respectively.

Allowing the Duc a moment to acknowledge the introductions, he then continued;

"Now, I must ask you to excuse me, Duc d'Lorraine, as it appears it is almost bed-time for young ladies."


(((ooc: Seiza - Feel free to do as you please with that one; have it as a wrap-up post, or continue the conversation, I don't mind either way. )))

Dimitri, Cesar and the girls
 

To his surprise, Dimitri found himself grateful that the Marquis did not seem intent on pursuing this oddly contoured, surprisingly exhausting discussion. (Or “discussion”, rather.) Perhaps—and this thought was certainly helped by the paternal display the Marquis put on before him, quelling a fight between the girls before one even started—he was more matured than anyone gave him credit for.

And—the Duc thought of his own self, with no small degree of dryness—perhaps he was less matured than everyone gave him credit for.

“As you may have guessed by now, this little beauty is Adèle, and this little beauty here is Angélique,” the young father announced proudly, at which Dimitri tipped his hat to the young girls, golden feather gleaming in the evening light. “Now, I must ask you to excuse me, Duc d'Lorraine, as it appears it is almost bed-time for young ladies.”

Surely he could fit in one more quip about little girls...? But Dimitri only nodded. “A good night to you, Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan, and to the Marquise.”

Anything indicative of what the girls would like—dominant colours in the dresses, ribbons, little animal ornaments—had been noted and filed before the Duc even realised it.

He walked off first, being the elder and of higher rank. He could hear the Marquis in the back, gently ushering his daughters along. Their shoes clicked sharply against the marble floor. It did not take long before they forgot to whisper, speaking indiscriminately loudly as young children did. Dimitri did not comment.

In the end, he had always been the sort to let Adalita run off, climb several dozen walls, absolutely tire herself out to contentment—and then he would chastise her, slap her wrist briefly and send her to her room, where she would fall asleep before the punishment even set in.

______

(('Tis fine, Atropa, that's a good place to end. Loved it! Cesar got Dimitri to call himself immature. LAWL. Go buy a lottery ticket, it's a weird day.

I heard night shifts can get pretty harsh, my friend tries to stay out of it as much as possible. But damn, I wanna watch movies on duty too!

Though I'm supposed to be studying and I'm STILL slacking off, so... The product of my not-working: another snapshot of the d'Lorraine household. Lady Jehanne enthusiastically explains her invention, the "eye ring". No prizes for guessing who spilled the wine.))

((Well Ghanima, I think officially we work on a 3, 3, 2, basis; 3 for morning, 3 for afternoon and 2 for evening though I am happy to move to 4, 4, 3. I fthat is the general consensus. One last thing I will officially be starting a new thread with the new day, not to confuse you, but to make it easier to introduce our mystery new character and for me to update the first posts.))


Mercy opened her mouth. Intending to comment on the beautiful locket hanging round the young womans neck, but a gentle, yet familiar, cough allerted her to Helena's presense. Mercy knew immediately that she was refering to her current duty as the quenn's assistant, and even if it wasn't Conversations with Helena were rarely for public consumption. "Alas my dear Comtesse I must now leave you, I do hope to see you later in the blue salon."

Mercy bowed herself away from the Comtesse and moved as fast as possible in a corset and heels to the Queens' chambers. As she entered Juliet appeared, Mercy bowed low and proceeded to be expalined the rudimentaries of packing in excrutiating detail from a woman who, as far as anyone knew, had never needed to pack anything. Let alone frequently enough to be an all knowing force.

Octavien & Joséphine - forest
 

(((ooc: Awwww, Octavien has a political supporter in Joséphine. Now I can just imagine him as King (and yes, I know that back in those days, merely thinking that way would be considered high treason, it's me thinking that way, not him, so .) )))


A sense of relief had started building in Octavien, as he and Joséphine progressed down the path of dark brown streaking the white and sickly pale green otherwise surrounding them. It had started as a mere quiver as he saw the look on her face while he spoke, and then slowly grown into a strong, undeniable feeling, as the tension that had previously ruled the very air between them, finally took it's leave of them. Like a pus-filled abscess pricked and opened to be drained, finally getting to talk about what had happened and why, had rid them of the discomfort it had caused, and the way it had stained their friendship with a shame that had threatened it's very existance. A door had been opened, an obstacle forced, leaving them able to speak freely once again, to breathe.

"You were part of the reason I never confessed", Joséphine said, proving that just as was the case with Octavien, the reluctance previously in her eyes had been the cause of many feelings indeed, but none of them resentment, nor blame. "I feared too much it would ruin not only my marriage, for which at least I am responsible, but your friendship as well. I believe both are worth more than a moment's impulse. Nonetheless, I do see the truth in what you have said about César needing to realize love and loyalty need to be reciprocated to endure."

As she paused, Octavien gave only a slow nod, his thought once again touching the subject of what would be César's reaction, if he found out there was competition. He had never been the jealous type, per se, caring little whether or not his mistresses found someone else to warm their beds when he was not there. Yet with Joséphine, Octavien had a feeling things would be different. Not that César would throw a fit with jealous rage, and end up hurting Joséphine somehow - neither physically or mentally - but rather be faced with the very same feelings Joséphine had been made a victim of for so long. To see the other side of the coin, and realize what he put her through. He may not admit it, he may not even let it show, but Octavien was sure that it would get to him. And while it may not entirely solve the problem, any change it would cause, no matter how small, would be a change for the better.

"Thank you, Octavien, for your advice and honesty."

Once again Joséphine's soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes back to meet with hers. There, as well as on her lips, he found a smile so relaxed and genuine that it was impossible not to return it, and as she reached out to touch the fabric of his sleeve, everything seemed to be back to how things had been between them, prior to the 'incident'. Only now, there was a new element, of trust and of a strengthened friendship that only perfect honesty and a joint venture through hardship could bring.

"You are a good friend. I hope you will be able to banish the ghosts which haunt you and find the peace you deserve."

Although they were words spoken in kindness, they caused the smile on the Prince's lips to fade, as he was once again reminded that even though one of his troubles had just been resolved, a myriad of others still remained to plague his mind.
But, not wanting to make Joséphine feel guilty when she had only meant well, and for words that really did warm his heart, the smile soon re-emerged on his lips, though maybe just a little bit forced this time.

"I think it is time I returned to the Palace. Do you wish to join me?"

Following her gaze to sweep across the darkening sky, Octavien was suddenly overcome by an erratic temptation to decline. To just stay in the forest over night, and venture the many dwindling paths for hours of darkness, with no other company than that of his horse, and of his thoughts. It seemed fitting, somehow.
Still, he knew that as a gentleman he couldn't leave a lady to fend for herself in a cold, soon-to-be pitch black forest she didn't know, nor would he feel like much of a friend if he did. No matter how resourceful and able Joséphine was.
Add to that the fact that within hours the entire Palace staff would be out looking for him, considering his less than subtle departure from the stables must have been noticed by quite a few people, and be quite a cause for concern, should he not return soon. It wouldn't be worth it. He would not be left alone for long, and it would be cruel of him to add worry to a large household already buckling under the burden of grief.

And so with nothing more than a simple nod, he guided them both onto a path which he knew would lead them directly back to the Palace. He did know the forrest like the back of his hand, after all. Even in the dark.

Though the silence between them didn't last very long, nor was it the kind of uncomfortable silence that would make any attempt to speak sound forced, and downright desperate. The tension was gone, and both Octavien and Joséphine seemed to have relaxed, so when conversation started up again, it happened with ease, and seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Which was probably why Octavien soon found himself yet again toying with the idea of confiding in Joséphine. Though 'toying' was perhaps the wrong word, considering it was more of a yearning brought about by the burden weighing down not only his spirit, but his entire posture. He needed to lighten the load, even if just a little, lest he go mad. There were things he could share with a friend. Things he had already shared with what he had then believed to be a friend, but whom he was no longer so sure of.
Baroness Taylor. Roseline.

Thus it came to be that only minutes after deciding not to, Prince Octavien opened up to Joséphine, and confided in her the true nature of his marriage to Adalita, leaving out only the reasons for it. His and hers both. There was no need to drag Adalita through the mud by confessing that she had been anything but an untainted bride, and he most definately could not explain part of his own reasons for marrying her; to be close to Isabella, without sending too many tongues wagging. It was better then, to leave Joséphine thinking he had done it out of duty alone. Things would be less complicated that way.

Words could not describe how relieved he felt, once he and Joséphine came to a halt outside the Palace stables. It had only been one little secret, but sharing it with her had worked wonders for his spirits, it had removed that small rock of his already far too heavy burden, that had been suffocating him, and given him back the ability to breathe.
For that, he felt forever grateful towards Joséphine, and shot her a faint smile as the stableboys came rushing in order to assist the two of them. A smile that then turned slightly apologetic while he dismounted, and one of the boys helped Joséphine do the same, as Octavien, who had always been of far lower rank than her and thus would have usually been the one to help her down, was now the Prince, and thus not expected to wait on anyone at all, but rather be waited on himself by an army of servants and loyal subjects. And, even though it was his prerogative as Prince to do what he pleased, and help Joséphine dismount if he so wished, he was not quite sure of what reaction it would bring, him being seen with his hands around another woman's waist and her hands on his shoulders, only hours after his wife had been laid to rest.

However, once they both had their feet planted firmly on the ground, he still offered her his arm in order to escort her back to the Palace. No one could possibly fault him for simply being a gentleman, could they?

"Thank you, Joséphine", he said, with a tone filled with warmth. "For your company, and for your ear. Without them, I think I might have gone mad."




(((ooc: Ghanima - So, so sorry it's so rushed and crappy, but I didn't have the chance to get into it the way I usually do, and write something longer. And I didn't want to keep Joséphine tied up any longer.

Also, everyone - For the same reason as above, I won't be able to post César until tomorrow, but I figure he'll return the girls to their suite, and when finding that Joséphine is not in his and her suite, he'll ask the servants where she is (so if Joséphine returns there, Ghanima, you can have them inform her that he asked for/about her, if you want), freshen up, and then head for the Blue Salon, where he'll be approachable. *nod*)))



*edit* - Now added to the post, to cover what I had intended.

Marie-Elisabeth: The Blue Salon
 

No longer in the company of the Baroness, Marie-Elisabeth wandered back to her suite of rooms. She had been intending to write to her sister but was halted in her plans by a familiar man who appeared to be waiting outside her suite.“Ahh Monsieur Lambriquet” she said, smiling as the man bowed in front of her ‘What are you doing here at so late an hour? Is everything allright at home”?

Simon Lambriquet was a man who had been a footman of sorts to her husband Charles when he was alive. He now functioned in the same capacity for her son, except it was more of a friendly Uncle/Nephew kinds of relationship than anything else.

“No Madame” he said, pulling some papers out from his coat pocket “Everything is just fine. I have a letter for you from the young master, as well as one from your sister the Baroness de Sicilie”. He handed her the two letters and bowed again. “You’ll have to forgive me for taking so long Madame” he said “I set out this morning but the journey took me much longer than I expected”.

“That is quite allright Simon” she replied, smiling as she looked down at the letter with “Pour mon Maman” scrawled across it in childish writing “I appreciate you bringing these to me. Will you be staying in the palace for the evening then?”

“I will Madame” he replied, nodding his head “It’s quite late to be heading back now”. “Then would you mind waiting a bit tomorrow to bring some letters back home for me? I’d like to reply to them but I won’t have time until tomorrow” she said and he nodded again. “Of course I will. Actually, I was expecting you to ask me that anyway”.

Marie-Elisabeth smiled and said “Thank you very much Simon, I truly appreciate this”. He bowed again and said “It is no problem at all Madame. I will see you tomorrow morning then”. She nodded and he turned and walked off down the hall as she entered her rooms.

She pulled the hat/veil off of her head and tossed it onto a nearby chair before sitting down on the bed with the letters in her hand. She knew she had to go to the Blue Salon soon, so she’d only really have time to read one. And of course it was no contest as to which. “Sorry Caroline” she said, setting her sister’s letter aside for later. She smiled at the painstaking writing, which she was certain had been carefully overseen by his tutors.

To my dear Maman,

I am doing very well but I miss you very much. I say hello to the portrait of you in the pretty blue dress in the hall every morning too.

The palace sounds like lots of fun; I wish I could meet the Duc. I bet he would have lots of stories to tell me about Papa. Do you think I can meet him someday? That would be fun.

I am doing very good in my studies, can you tell how much better my writing is now? I’m almost as good as Papa was, my tutor said so himself. I’m going to write to Sophie and Helene next, I bet they will be very surprised.

I hope I will get to see you again soon Maman, I miss you. I hope you are having lots of fun
Love,
Charles

Marie-Elisabeth smiled and wiped away the couple of tears that had started gathering at the corners of her eyes. She was glad to hear from her son, and it had definitely put her in a much better mood. She carefully re-folded the letter and set it on top of the one from Caroline that she had set aside.

She walked over to her mirror and, after making some minimal adjustments to her slightly hat flattened hair, walked back outside and headed for the Blue Salon.

Again, there were not many people up and about, which of course was hardly very surprising. When she reached the Salon she could not yet spy anyone she knew so she decided to settle herself down on one of the couches with a cup of tea.


(((OOC: There we go Atropa *waits* And I vote for the 4-4-3 system. More time is always good)))

Dimitri >>> Blue Salon
 

((I vote for 4-4-3 too. Barring super-slow days, of course.

Aww, Charles Jr. sounds so cute! (Psst, I saw your family pics in that other sims family thread, slytherin-girl :D) Must cook up some way to get him to the palace...

"HRH King Octavien"? I think I've gotten too used to "Prince". Now, "Emperor" on the other hand... :D))
______


Rukov hummed to himself in a breath under a breath—it wouldn’t do, after all, to be caught humming to oneself on the day of the Princess’ funeral. Yet it was all the man could bring himself to hunch over his shoulders and bow his head all day, in honour of Her Deceased Highness. He hadn’t known the girl (as did, he suspected, the servants who cried the loudest and most publicly in the kitchens) so he could not feel anything more than the requisite pity that someone so young and beautiful had passed from this earth.

He was, rather, more disappointed at the latest rumour spreading in the—once again—kitchens. And because he had heard it in that bastion of truth, he knew he could count on it being mostly accurate.

Unlike the Princess, he had seen the Queen first-hand and was convinced of her supposed beauty. Now she was sick or feeling faint or whatever noblewomen got up to under their corsets, and her mother was most likely about to take her home. What a pity. Should’ve gotten a lock of that blond hair sooner…

Rukov knocked on his lord’s door, bringing news of the announcement that the evening gathering was to be held at the Blue Salon.

He entered, and the humming died on his lips.

It was not because the Duc was already dressed for the evening, seemingly without anyone’s aid. That was the sort of thing Rukov had gotten used to happening, even when he arrived on time to help his lord change and so could not, by anyone’s standard, be accused of being late. It was just one of those quirks a manservant adjusted to, if abnormal punctuality bordering on psychic awareness was a “quirk.”

Dimitri sat by the large windows, adjusting his cufflinks. A glass of wine stood before him, half-drunk. Beside it was the pistol that shot Marquess Berini.

Rukov stepped closer, but circled widely around the firearm. “Mighty interesting table décor that is, m’lord.”

“Hmm?” It may have been a vase for all the attention Dimitri gave it. “Ah. Put it away, if you please.”

With a gingerliness he seldom showed, Rukov held the barrel. This certainly caught the Duc’s attention. He finished his ministrations with a flourish, asking, “What is it?”

“You’ve never taken it out before now, m’lord. Just curious, is all.”

Dimitri was exasperated enough—and close enough to his aid—to roll his eyes. This was almost as alarming as the gun itself. “I was only in a contemplative mood, nothing worth being ‘curious’ about. Put it away and you are free for the rest of the evening.”

“Aye, lord.” Rukov, loyal manservant that he was, only bowed as the Duc left.


((Open to Octavien or Juliet. Feel free to have Dimitri enter the Salon in your post.))

Juliet wrinkled her nose as she left her daughter's rooms that Baroness was a bit much and not really fitting of even the rank of Baroness, she lacked a certain level of refinement and some of the obvious lady like qualities, but she seemed loyal to Isabella and scared of Juliet herself whihc was a fair enough reason to trust her, particularly with a menial chore such as packing.

She descended one set of stairs, and approached the room, in which refreshemnts had been laid out in honour of her step grand-daughter. She sighed as she walked up to the door, a footman opened it for her but she was temporarily distracted and turned, Duc d'Lorraine, her guide from earlier was approaching. "Good evening my dear Duc," Juliet bowed her head to the man, who was, presumably the same age as her son-in-law and therefore only 4-6 years younger than Juliet herself. She allowed him to take her arm and escort inside the room, there were courtiers lining the walls, currently speaking without direction, presumably the King was to make an appearance and give a speech at some point, though as that could be quite someitme, she lowered herself into a chintz chair and indicated for the Duc to sit down next to her, they were seated in a set of four chairs around a mahogony table, but no one else, without a high reputation would dare join them, except the busy-body baroness who Juliet was currently keeping busy upstairs.

"The courtiers here are so very pleasant, in deed there is a Baroness helping with my daughters packing, a woman of about my age," Juliet said this with relish knowing well she had 10 years on the Baroness but she would never be corrected. "I cannot remember her name but she does seem most concerned about my daughter." Juliet gave a pleasant smile.

Dimitri & Juliet - Hangin' at the Blue Salon
 

Dimitri had been only partly surprised to see the Duchesse de Margoles by the Blue Salon—he had expected her to come down with the King, not alone. Returning her greeting, he concluded that her hazy reputation was well-earned: one could not be entirely sure how she would act in any situation.

The Salon was draped in varying shades of Prussian blues and blacks, tastefully modest. Yet glittering embroidery lined the cloths, the cushions covered in silvery lace, a smattering of soft laughter even floated from the corners, some women and men had even spruced up their mourning gowns by now—indicating that the time of sorrow was almost over, and a tinge of merriment would grace this room. The seating had been arranged in groups of four—all the better to speak around, Dimitri surveyed. He recognised the Comtesse de Valois sitting alone, but the Duchesse on his arm had already chosen another seat, and he could do no more than follow her.

He took the chair facing the entrance. Although the footman would announce when members of the royal family arrived, Dimitri was keeping an eye on other potential problems. Even as he settled into that semi-conscious watchman-mode, long years of practice enabled him to listen to the Duchesse without appearing absent-minded.

“The courtiers here are so very pleasant, in deed there is a Baroness helping with my daughters packing, a woman of about my age. I cannot remember her name but she does seem most concerned about my daughter.”

It was the survival instinct kicking in, sharply-honed over many years living in a house full of women; Dimitri did not wonder if she was truly the same age as Baroness Venn. He did not even try. Surely, the woman would have known if he’d thought it, with their supernatural mind-reading capabilities, and that was one trouble he was not looking for.

“I hazard a guess that it is Baroness Venn who is helping the Queen. I was not joking when I said they were close.” Dimitri smiled with a hint of playful reproachfulness, which lingered between members of the same class. “But the best way to remember someone’s name, Duchesse, is to ask them for it.”

Two glasses and a plate of little pastries were brought to their table. He continued after the servant left, “Would I be too optimistic to hope the Queen makes an appearance tonight?”

If Isabella was leaving tomorrow, this would surely be her last chance to address her subjects. Dimitri had not gotten the opportunity to know her well, but he could detect the similarities she shared with her mother: both were women who knew—and knew how to wield—power. It did not seem like the Queen to miss the chance to lay one last mark upon the Court before she left... unless her condition was worse than expected.


((One seat is sorta for Octavien, but hey, if anyone has the balls of steel to sit with the Duchesse... :D))

César - Blue Salon
 

(((ooc: 4-4-3 for me as well, at least. And emperor might do just as nicely. *nod*
Also, I now edited my Octavien post above, because I really did want it to involve a little more, so... Hope it's ok with you, Ghanima? You don't have to have her respond or anything, it was just a way for me to wrap it all up.)))


Better than expected. Such had been the outcome of the first real encounter with Duc d'Lorraine. Having gotten off to a not-so-surprisingly rocky start, as César had expected nothing less than to be reprimanded for bringing his daughters with him to court - a place that most deemed not suitable for young children - and a continued conversation lined with venom and words with a razor edge, it was almost strange how the two men had eventually, at the same time yet independent of one another, changed the direction in which the conversation had been going, and ended up being genuinely courteous towards one another. So much so that when they parted, they did so on what César believed to be fairly good terms, with a good chance that any possible encounters in the future would involve far less friction.

All in all, it had been a rather invigorating experience. César enjoyed a good verbal sparring session, and even though he'd gotten his fair share of it with Octavien, that had been sparring of the friendly and good-natured kind, and had little impact on their friendship. Now, a verbal duel where the opponent was not already a friend, and the outcome was uncertain, that was something else entirely, and as such added a certain level of excitement to it all.
And César did have a thing for excitement. It was what had made him take his daughters with him to explore the Palace in the first place.
That, and the feelings stirred by the funeral.

Speaking of which, had there not been a mention of an evening gathering somewhere in the Palace, for those who wished to talk about the now deceased Princess, and share their memories of her? Not that César had any memories whatsoever to share, nor did he have much to say about Adalita in general. He wasn't even all that interested in mourning the girl. But, and it was a big but, it would be a golden opportunity to meet the other courtiers, as he assumed most of them would attend. If not for noble and honest reasons, then for the simple fact that she had been the Princess after all, and showing concern - genuine or not - was a perfect way of kissing up to the King. What ambitious courtier would not jump at the chance to perhaps, maybe, if they were lucky, earn the King's favor? And since when did the Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan pass up an opportunity to socialize?

However, despite the ardor with which he had defended his daughters and their manners (or lack thereof, according to a certain Duc), César did realize that bringing his children to such a sombre event would be crossing the line, even for him. And, much like he had told the Duc, it was nearing the children's bed time. He should return them to their nanny, before even thinking of searching out the gathering of courtiers.

"Come, mes chéris", he said, once he put them both down on the ground again, and began gently ushering them back towards their suite.

Before long, with only one small detour down a wrongful hallway to recapture a giggling renegade Angélique, the three of them were back in the children's suite, and after some convincing on César's part that, yes, his darling daughters were too tired, and that all pretty girls needed their beauty sleep, they were finally persuaded to go to bed without too much of a fuss. But not without saying a proper 'good night' to their father, with the planting of big wet kisses on both his cheeks, that came along with it.

César then returned to his and Joséphine's own suite, still with a smile on his lips. The kind of smile that only his daughters could draw from them, and only time wipe away, once something else demanded his attention.
This time, it would be Joséphine. Or rather, Joséphine's absence. Upon returning to the suite, César had pretty much expected to find his wife there, but when asking her maids he learned that she had left shortly after he had, and that they were not quite certain where she had disappeared off to. But, they added hastily added in an attempt to appease him, due to the slightly annoyed look in his eyes at their lacking first reply, the Mistress had dressed warmly, so one would suppose she had intended to go outside. Had she said when she'd be back? No, no, they regretted to say that she hadn't.

Needless to say, César was somewhat disappointed. He would have really liked to make an entrance with Joséphine by his side, as together the beautiful couple tended to make quite a grand one. But, if there was no telling when she would be back, then there was no point in waiting for her either.
And so, after exchanging his black ceremonial coat for another, dark navy blue one that brought out his eyes and the vivacity in them, and correcting his cravat, he left the suite once again, and set out for the post-funeral gathering.

He entered the Blue Salon much in the same way he would when attending parties and other social events wherever he went; with an air of refinement, and more importantly, virility. Though still quite young, he was undoubtedly a man, filled with vigor and vitality, stamina and strength, and while entering with Joséphine by his side added an air of authority to the picture, him entering by himself provided for a visual no less striking, as in a way, it made him appear even more untamed, and most of all, more available to the ladies whose eye he caught.

Just beyond the doors, he stopped for a moment to get his bearing, allowing his gaze to slowly drift from one side of the large salon to the other, stopping only briefly to greet those who were looking in his direction with a cordial nod before continuing. Beside the Duc d'Lorraine, who was just sitting down with the Queen's mother, there didn't appear to be anyone he knew there. Not even that older woman whose name he had yet to learn, and who up to this point had seemed to be practically everywhere, was there.

Though no sooner had that thought entered his mind, than his eyes decided to prove him wrong, by landing a very familiar young lady sitting by herself on one of the couches, and, much like when he had first met her, sipping tea, judging by the delicate china cup in her hand.

How could he possibly resist?

With his eyes making a second sweep around the salon, mostly to keep his destination from being far too obvious, should anyone - the Comtesse especially - happen to be watching him, he started heading towards said couch, slowly and casually, picking up a delicate glass of wine from the silver tray of a passing servant, and only once he was almost there, did he turn his head in Marie-Elisabeth's direction.

"Ah, if it isn't the lovely Comtesse de Valois", he said as he came to a halt next to where she was sitting, and gave a smile that left it no secret that coming across her was quite the welcome occurence. "Tell me, Comtesse, do you believe it would be inappropriate of me to say that I do believe the gods are smiling down at me? Or is it just one God we have? I forget."

Translation; César was not a particularly pious man, nor had he made a habit of going to confession, or even mass for that matter. Whatever that might entail.



(((ooc: Will try to have something up for Octavien this afternoon, but no promises. Though I fear if I don't, evening will be over before he's even gotten there, seeing as how with the 4-4-3 system, we still will be moving on to morning tomorrow. )))

Octavien - Suite -> Blue Salon
 

More than anything, as Octavien ascended the grand staircase on the way to his suite, he wished that he could just stay up there for the rest of the evening. Alone, unbothered. Even the desire to stay in the forest over night that had overwhelmed him an hour or so ago, paled in comparison. But the reason behind this new desire, was different than that of the previous one. He had headed out with the sole purpose of purging himself of all troubling thoughts and worries, to be able to take a step back from it all, and start fresh at trying to untangle what had now become his life, with new-found clarity.

It had been a successfull attempt, though it had little to do with the daredevil ride at breakneck speed. It had managed to clear his head, yes, but what had really given him back his ability to view his situation rationally and with his usual sapience, was his confession to Joséphine. It had lightened the load just enough for him to draw a deep, mental breath, and gain back his clarity. He was now ready to re-focus, and determine the best course of action for him at this point. Which was why he desperately wanted to be by himself, so that he might do so in peace and quiet. With Adalita dead and Isabella going away, he knew that he now needed to protect his interests, more than ever, and secure his position. He did not think he'd be able to suffer the humiliation of giving up his own possible future married to a woman he loved and raising children of his own, to marry a woman he didn't even like, just to protect her and her family from suffering humiliation, and raising her bastard child as his own, only to have the benefits of his sacrifice taken away from him, to be tossed aside when he was considered no longer needed.

The best way of doing that? To see to it that he was not considered no longer needed. He needed to make himself if not invaluable, then at least important and influential enough to make a difference, not to mention well-liked. In fact, being well-liked was the very foundation on which he intended to build. Power in itself was useful, and could indeed keep someone in their current position, maybe even climb the ladder quite a bit. But it was only good until your opponents found a way to fight you, and more often than not, you would find the fight consuming so much time and effort that once the battle for power was over, you no longer had the strength to keep it. Only the most skilled players would, and they were few indeed.

Now, popularity on the other hand... There were few people, even in and around court, that would take up arms against someone they liked. Of course, as was the case with anything, there were exceptions, who would sell their own mother for a livre if it would take them one inch closer to their goal, but they were often easy enough to discern and manuever into falling on their own sword; namely greed.

It wasn't an easy task, gaining the favor of the royal family and the courtiers, and it was perhaps even more difficult to earn the favorit of the people. But Octavien intended to try nonetheless. And, he did have one advantage; he had a sincere way about him, of amiability and cordiality, with a genuine smile for everyone.
At least, he used to... Lately, it seemed what had once been the biggest part of his personality, had withdrawn, chased away by betrayal and various threats, by the ever growing bitterness that tended to stain his thoughts. Now, if only he could find his way back to what he had been when first arriving here...


Consequently, staying in his suite this evening was sadly not an option. Not with a commemoration for Adalita going on in the Blue Salon. As he husband, he was expected to attend. And as a survivor and a fighter, he had to.

"Gilles", he said the very moment he entered the lavish suite, and upon merely registering the form of his trusted servant in the corner of his eye, continued as he started towards the delicate china bowl and water pitcher near the bed; "Please bring me the slate grey waistcoat with the silver embroidery, and the dark grey coat to match. I shall..."

While speaking, he had turned his attention to Gilles, and his voice trailed off into nothingness when he caught the look on the servant's face.

"What it is, man?" he inquired, when Gilles didn't open his mouth to speak fast enough. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"Your Highness... It seems... It seems Marquess Berini has been murdered..."

Octavien blinked.

"'Murdered'?" he repeated, as though he thought he'd heard Gilles wrong, but paused again as the older man simply gave a nod. "How do you know?"

"One of the coachmen from town brought the news, when delivering the fish for this evening's... commemoration. Apparently the Marquess and his carriage were ambushed by robbers in the forest. They bludgeoned the driver, and when he came to, he found Marquess Berini inside the carriage. Shot to death."

For a moment, Octavien simply looked at him, as once again the thoughts started whirling inside his head. Marquess Berini, dead. Could it be a coincidence? Was he paranoid to even think that it may not be? Just as there were many adversaries to the King and the royal family, there were many fanatically loyal subjects. Who was to say one of them had not decided to take the matter into his own hands, when the Prince - the very target of the Marquess' attack - had proven to be too tolerant and merciful?

"That's...", Octavien started, slowly digesting the news. "That's... unfortunate."

The fact that in reality, it was anything but, needn't be uttered. One exchange of looks between the two men was all it took for them to share their thoughts that someone had just done the both of them, and Isabella as well, a favor, without even realizing it. There was no longer a need for either of them to be concerned that maybe, some day, the Marquess would go back on his word, and show up in the Kingdom to cause trouble once again.

"Now", Octavien continued as he pulled himself together, leaving the matter to be pondered later. "Do bring me the vest and the coat. I am already far too late."

Twenty minutes later, he re-emerged from his suite, washed clean from the smell of horse and forest, and now wearing the vest and the coat for which he had asked, along with a pair of dark grey breeches to match the coat.

As he finally entered the Blue Salon, the footman next to the door announced his entrance loud and clear, and for a brief moment, Octavien stopped dead in his tracks as he suddenly found himself the center of attention. During those first few seconds of his appearance, all eyes were on him, and for the first time since Adalita's death, he registered the pity in the eyes of some, and the malicious glee in the eyes of others. Hardly surprisingly, the mixed feelings in court, regarding the young Prince, were already starting to show.
Though he was determined not to buckle under the pressure, and so within moments, he continued further into the Salon, striding towards the two people whose company he assumed he was expected to seek first, in the absence of the other members of the royal family; the Duc d'Lorraine, and Isabella's mother, the Duchesse.

((48 hours until morning....))

“I hazard a guess that it is Baroness Venn who is helping the Queen. I was not joking when I said they were close.” The Duc smiled at her Juliet's borw furrowed slightly, was this Man seriously suggesting that her daughter was truely friends with that woman? Juliet unfurrowed her brow, a good mother could recognise her daughter's friend's, and a practical mother could at least realise their uses, and Juliet was a practical mother so presumably this woman had some unknown service to offer.

“But the best way to remember someone’s name, Duchesse, is to ask them for it.” Juliet's mouh opened slightly and closed again, she gave a gentle smile. This man was doing his duty and protecting the woman's honour, what a gentleman Duc d'Lorraine appeared to be.

Two glasses and a plate of little pastries were brought to their table. She reached for the glass and looked upon her companion again. “Would I be too optimistic to hope the Queen makes an appearance tonight?” Juliet tilted her head to the left, "well that rather depends on Edouard, it is not in my, or any womans nature to control the appearances a husband needs his wife to make. Or in deed to control any aspect of his life." Juliet gave a gentle smile, she wondered about the gentleman, if her daughter had found use for this Baroness Venn then from the way he defended her he presumably had also found her use. But did he consider the woman a friend... or a tool.

Juliet was well aware of the three types of friends, people whom are your friends for convenience, those you see frequently and you may as well befiriend, those with whom you felt a kinship and those whom could do something for you.

The doors were opened and the Prince announced. Juliet stood, as she knew full well without her son-in-law or daughter present she was the person who would be approached first she gave a gentle bow, not too low, after all she was a royal's mother. "Good Evening your Highness, I do hope you are not fairing too badly this evening."

Dimitri, Juliet & Octavien
 

“well that rather depends on Edouard, it is not in my, or any womans nature to control the appearances a husband needs his wife to make. Or in deed to control any aspect of his life.” Juliet spoke smoothly. Her hand did not even shake as she primly held a glass of wine.

But, also as a result of living with so many of the female kind, Dimitri was aware that a woman could hide her worst fears behind smiles and powders. A steady hand was no indication as to what the Duchesse really felt about her daughter’s condition. Perhaps she truly was convinced that Isabella only needed some fresh air back home. After all, she would know her daughter better than anyone... and she did not know of the poisoning.

Yet, until the possibility that Isabella had not been harmed in some way was settled, he could not let the matter go.

Any attempt he might’ve made to lure the Duchesse into describing Isabella’s condition, however, was halted by the gilded doors swinging open. A ringing voice announcing the arrival of His Royal Highness. Dimitri, with his clear view, caught what might be the earliest glance of Octavien’s reaction to his reception. As had been his habit with young Edouard, the Duc automatically checked off everything the Prince was doing wrong.

He stood at the doors as all eyes turned on him. It was too sudden. A gradual stop, a gentle flow into distinguished stillness showing a burdened soul rising to the occasion—that was what Octavien needed to portray. Stopping as he did only hinted at some form of intimidation.

His eyes were too guarded, too busy assessing the room’s occupants to remember that they had to—not just show, but to positively glow—sorrow and strength. A funeral was among the few times royalty were expected to show the appropriate emotions, but Octavien had been very strict, contemplative and self-composed the whole day. A good image to have at any other time. But to the Duc, as it might have seemed to other experienced courtiers, it showed that the Prince either cared or worried too much about others’ opinion of him, making him inhibit his actions and reactions at his own wife’s death.

The acceptance of the unwashed masses was not something royalty should ever show—even hint—they were concerned about.

Only a handful of the seated men even stood up; the rest, their insubordination secured by the absence of the King and Queen, were already issuing the young Prince their unspoken challenge. Octavien left the doors too fast—since he had stopped there, he should have remained there until all the noblemen were forced to rise in his honour. But he walked away too quickly, admitting defeat in a confrontation he probably didn’t even know he had been in.

Small as these signs were, they were enough. Dimitri surveyed the expressions randomly. Some at least attempted to hide their lack of sympathy with a well-placed fan or gloved hand; others did not even bother.

Neither Edouard nor Isabella was here. Thus, this must have been the young Prince’s first, real experience as the centre of attention. Dimitri did not know how Monsieur Lahance raised his sons, but having been untitled for most of his life, there was little chance that Octavien would have had an early and constant exposure to such subtle courtly laws of behaviour. More than lessons, more than observations; it was living through such intense scrutiny and manipulations that made royalty truly royalty…

As Octavien approached their table, the Duc rose along with the Duchesse. Being as tall as he was, it was hard for others to miss this pointed gesture. But for the Queen’s mother to do it as well, projected a very powerful and very public sign in Octavien’s favour.

“Good Evening your Highness, I do hope you are not fairing too badly this evening,” Juliet greeted politely.

Dimitri bowed beside her. “Good evening, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce to you the gracious Juliet de Margoles, Duchesse of Champagne and mother of Her Majesty the Queen. We were just discussing the Queen’s return home, and would be honoured if you’ll join us until His Majesty arrives.”

______

@Marie-Elisabeth and Josephine-- Ooh, so! They Finally Meet. *prepares for subtle, courtly :handbag:-ing*

And I just had to scream: !@$#!!! Sims Screen of Death. Guess my laptop has finally gone anti-TS2. Sigh.))

((No you got her right, and I must say I am intimidated by these posts! Juliet naturly isn't but she has a stronger character even than me myself.... which IS saying something....

And comiserations Seiza, my computer was never that great as you can see from the sim Mercy pics...))

Marie-Elisabeth, Cesar, and Josephine
 

Marie-Elisabeth had been one of the first few people to enter the Salon, and so enjoyed herself by watching everyone else enter. Of course one person she payed attention to immediately was the woman she now knew to be the mother of the queen.

She reminded her rather strongly of her own mother who, even before her father had passed away, had admittedly been the boss of the family. Marie-Therese Normandie took charge of everything from the running of the house, to controlling the finances, to arranging the marriages of all 16 of her children. Marie-Elisabeth was quickly becoming grateful she hadn’t met with the woman that morning, she seemed like the sort of person that knew exactly what you were up to even if you didn’t tell her. And Marie-Elisabeth really didn’t relish anyone knowing what she was up to at the moment.

She watched as the latest person entered the room, and lifted her tea sup to her lips to cover the familiar smirk appearing on her face. “Finally” she thought to herself as he made his way over to where she was sitting “Company I actually desire to be in”.

She placed her cup down on the table in front of her, not really bothering to hide the smile on her face as he stopped in front of her and spoke.

“Why thank you Marquis, I’m flattered” she said, shifting her skirts to make room on the couch “But I believe we do just have the one god. The old man in robes with the long white beard, remember?”.

She was preparing to say something else but was halted in her speech by the arrival of another woman, one whom she quickly discovered was César’s wife. “Lovely” she thought, quickly switching the less than innocent smile on her face to a more suitable one “How am I suppose to have my fun if I keep getting interrupted”.

“Ahh so you’re the mother of the two little girls I had my ear talked off about” she said “How nice to finally meet you. I’m Marie-Elisabeth, Comtesse de Valois”.


(((OOC: Dangit, I didn't get to reply I had one all done but I didn't get to post it before I left this morning. Here's the new one, I think it's ok Let the subtle bi^*h fighting begin )))

((Okay, unless I missed something, I you guys are still accepting apps... right?))

((We certainly are, in about 36 hours morning will be called, in a new thread. And unless you have any severe applications Padme will be free to enter the court. That is an official time keeping reminder ))

Octavien w/ Dimitri & Juliet in the Blue Salon
 

(((ooc: Elektra - Indeed we are! Welcome! One question though: is she a servant at court, or...? Sorry if I'm being dense.

Also, sorry for being so fussy. I just recently really lost my grip of Octavien and his personality, and now I think I found it again, so maybe I'm being just a tad over-protective. )))


If Octavien had been aware of the problems his lack of "proper breeding" might bring before, moving through the small crowd in the Blue Salon, he could feel them practically hailing over him. Judging by the look in the eyes of the other courtiers - some watching the young widower with heartfelt empathy or pity, and others with something bordering on disdain - it would seem that half the court was expecting him to fail this first and ultimate test, and the other half wanting him to. He got the feeling that a few of them had not even come to honor Adalita's memory, but to cooly assess the Prince, and see if he would hold up in this most trying of times, or if he would fall flat on his face. And as he glanced around, it appeared that some were most intent on helping things along, by remaining in their seats; a sure sign that they did not recognize him as royalty. Prince or not.

He hadn't heard what rumours were being whispered lately, save for those concerning Adalita's suspected infidelity with a certain Duc, the very day after her own wedding. But he was no fool, and thus not ignorant to the fact that there was sure to be at least one theory that he had married her only for her title, her power and her wealth, and that she had married him only because he had managed to trick her somehow, either by making her believe he really did love her, or by using some other dirty method.
Looking at it objectively, even though it was not true, how could he blame those that believed such was the case? Adalita hadn't exactly made herself known for having a good sense of judgement.
Ironically, when it came to men, the court didn't even know the half of it. Unlike Octavien, they didn't know that she had been to bed with Silvius even before her marriage to Octavien (though considering Silvius' reputation, again there was bound to be suspicions), and that she had gotten herself pregnant. And even Octavien didn't know the child had not even been Silvius', but that she had bedded yet another man long before she had allowed Silvius to take her into his arms.

Had the court known, the theory of Octavien tricking the naive and gullible, and, quite frankly, morally loose Adalita into marrying him, would have passed the stage of being just a rumour, and instead manifested itself as open accusations. Though at the same time, the few courtiers that did not crave scandals like common people craved food, would perhaps have recognized the swift need for a groom with a reputation less sordid than Duc Peitou-Charentes.

Not that it mattered now. Things were what they were, and it was those he had to focus on. Not all the 'if's and 'but's that had not made it into reality.

First on the agenda, was keeping his dignity, which would be no easy task, with a large portion of the court currently and openly defying him. Nor was it made easier by the fact that no matter how unsettling that was, there was one thing that added to his self-consciousness tenfold; the Duc d'Lorraine. As he approached the table from which the Duc and Juliet had just risen, Octavien kept his gaze firmly on the two of them for the most part, straying only momentarily to offer the others that had risen in his honor a cordial nod, and exchanging a look with César who flashed him a faint but highly encouraging smile, but dignifying none of those that remained seated with as much as a glance. Though he did register their positions in the corner of his eyes, in order to have his gaze sweep across them later, and memorize exactly who they were.

Thus, with his gaze locking mostly with Dimitri's, he could feel the older man judging his every move as well. Granted, he did not seem as intent on disliking what he saw as some of the other courtiers - at least not disliking it just for the sake of disliking it - but that only added to Octavien's burden, as shrugging off ill intent was difficult but not impossible, whereas just and reasonable judgement was. At least to someone who was willing to admit they were not perfect. And Octavien was painfully aware of that fact.

"Good Evening your Highness," Isabella's mother greeted him once he came to a halt. "I do hope you are not fairing too badly this evening."

While speaking, she gave a slight bow, and was joined by the Duc in doing so, the two of them managing quite well to undo a large portion on the damage the other courtiers had done, and even lecture them, in an indirect, roundabout way.

"Good evening, Your Highness", Dimitri greeted him as well. "Allow me to introduce to you the gracious Juliet de Margoles, Duchesse of Champagne and mother of Her Majesty the Queen. We were just discussing the Queen's return home, and would be honoured if you'll join us until His Majesty arrives."

This introduction presented Octavien with yet another dilemma, as he was not completely sure of who he should greet first. He, just like everyone, knew one was supposed to greet people in the order of rank. But between the Duc and the Duchesse, who outanked who? Did the Duc outrank the Duchesse because he was a man, or did the Duchesse outrank the Duc because she was the mother of royalty?

"Duchesse de Margoles", he said and gave yet another cordial and somber nod, having made his decision in a split second, basing it on how blood ties tended to play a great part in similar situation, and how it was to her he was being introduced. "Duc d'Lorraine."

Both having been properly greeted, he looked at Juliet, with a faint, joyless smile on his lips, in recognition of her kind words.

"I hope you will forgive me my... unintended aloofness earlier, in the chapel", he said. "I have not been myself since Adalita was taken ill."

How true it was. He really hadn't been feeling like his usual self in days. Regardless of the reasons. Though in all fairness, Adalita's condition had been one of the largest ones, if not the largest. They may not have been the friends he'd hoped they'd be, and he might've been angry with her. But he was not cold. He had indeed cared.

"Thank you, Duc d'Lorraine", he then said, accepting Dimitri's offer to join him and Juliet, and as they sat down, he added; "The Queen will be missed indeed. She has been most gracious and kind, and offered quite alot of advice that I have found to be truly invaluable. I am, however, certain that the country air will do her a world of good, and that we will soon have the pleasure of her presence here at court again."


(((ooc: I'm sorry, I know the last part stinks, but I've been staring at if for almost an hour now, and it's seriously the best I can do right now. I don't want him to shower Isabella with flattering adjectives, cuz it'll make him sound so fake, and I couldn't come up with anything else, so... Meh.
Also, I have no idea what would be the proper way for him to accept Dimitri's offer, so could we please just pretend that he didn't mess up all that much?


*edit* Okay, I added a bit to the last line. Still stinks, but hopefully not as much. )))

Dimitri, Octavien & Juliet - Blue Salon
 

((The only movie I know from this age is the Three Musketeers. XD And that's probably from the wrong era too.

slytherin-girl-- ah, I so wanted to bring a desktop PC to uni just for my TS2 needs! But the thought of moving it from hostel to hostel was... :Puppy: ))

_____


Dimitri checked off something else on his mental list, but this time it was in personal approval. After all, one could not ignore a lady—especially a lady such as the Duchesse—in one’s greeting. Now, if Octavien had to choose between multiple ladies of overlapping titles from several different countries, each with its own set of ranks, using obscure names that gave no indication as to their place in the home hierarchy…

That would have been an amusing challenge.

“The Queen will be missed indeed. She has been most gracious and kind, and offered quite alot of advice that I have found to be truly invaluable. I am, however, certain that the country air will do her a world of good, and that we will soon have the pleasure of her presence here at court again,” Octavien offered, in that composed manner the Duc remembered from their luncheon several days ago.

The young man seemed more than able to carry himself when in personal conversation, so the mental checklist was pushed to the back.

“The Queen’s presence is certainly invaluable to the Palace as a whole. The King as well. It will be a shock to the household to see her off, so soon after… well.”

Dimitri filled the telling silence with a gesture for more wine.

“Will you remain at the Palace in Her Majesty’s absence, Duchesse?”

It was an absurd question, but the underlying meaning was what truly counted. How could the Margoles allow the Palace to roam free without one of their own people here to “keep an eye” on things? It was equivalent to opening one’s locked doors and allowing an army of courtiers to tear their carefully constructed home apart.

When Dimitri left the Court two decades ago, it had been after forming a very close friendship with the King himself, which was vigorously maintained through occasional—but never exceptionally infrequent—letters. Dimitri was very fond of Edouard, and his letters had been written with utmost sincerity; but like everything else in this Court, there was the oft unmentioned additional agendas.

While Isabella had been here, the Margoles’ position in Court was safe from harm. Without her, however…

Juliet's sentiment the young gentleman was quite neutral when she heard of the marriage to him, for she knew nothing of him or his family, this had suprised her until she had found out that he had only a short time ago been an untitled man, which in itself did not impress her, however she could hardly hold that against him with her background, on the day of the funeral, she had gone so far as to recognise he looked the part, even if he had been which was at least something, and on his greeting her mood had moved round to positive, the young Prince, at least from the point of view of Juliet de Margoles, would do, he was perfectly sufficient.

“The Queen will be missed indeed. She has been most gracious and kind, and offered quite alot of advice that I have found to be truly invaluable. I am, however, certain that the country air will do her a world of good, and that we will soon have the pleasure of her presence here at court again.” Her step-grandson-in-law motioned, cordial polite and agreeing with Juliet's opinion... excellent.

“The Queen’s presence is certainly invaluable to the Palace as a whole. The King as well. It will be a shock to the household to see her off, so soon after… well.”Juliet paused, whilst the young gentleman had commended her choice and comiserated the palace for the loss the Duc seemed less convinced Juliet was positioned between the two men and shifted her position slightly in the chair whilst she had been sitting watching the Prince she now changed to watch the Duc his words had been perfectly natural but perhaps, there was something underneath that politeness, beneath the warm sentiment everyone showed her... nowadays. Juliet had shifted in such a way that from the position of the Duc the appearance would be of her sitting beside the Prince and rather assessing him. There was a pointed silence during which the Duc gestured for wine. Before speaking once again.

“Will you remain at the Palace in Her Majesty’s absence, Duchesse?”

"I shall naturally be a more constant presence here at the palace, but a woman's duty is to her family, and I cannot desert my daughter in her condition, my husband in his position, or in deed the next Duc of Champagne in the stage of life's transition. So Isabella's uncle will be joining you here at the court, he I feel is an able family member and him and Edouard have always gotten along so well, that I feel perhaps his presense will be welcomed even more than my own would..." Juliet left another definite pause, the question had been foolish, but the reasoning behind it was clear, she had heard statements of a similar nature made by a great many powerful men, with the same unlying meaning. Was well aware that in any and every court throughout the known world, there were people who could not be moved from their postions unless it was voluterily as they held too much power. Isabella and Adalita had held those powers, the Prince, by his very nature did, she did, Larkin would and she had to concede the man before her, as Edouard's life long friend, did. Thus she had used the first names of the Royal's after all of all people who was more qualified too than the three of them? There was just one niggling feeling at the back of her mind, there was someone else in this court whose cool confidence flowed, as if certain that the person was untouchable, sadly Juliet was leaving the following morning and still had not located the person she sort to make note of...

((I didn't think we sould all grill Octavien so Juliet took a different tack, hope everyone is happy ))

((On the basis that I have not had any contact with him sinse that application I do not think, he will, and I stress the think.))

Dimitri, Octavien & Juliet
 

((LOL! I think Octavien has, like, maxed Charisma or something. It covers women of all ages

[EDIT] Whoa, if this ain't a mindless fluff post... XD))
______


“I shall naturally be a more constant presence here at the palace, but a woman's duty is to her family, and I cannot desert my daughter in her condition, my husband in his position, or in deed the next Duc of Champagne in the stage of life's transition,” Juliet explained in strenuous detail, to which Dimitri duly listened.

Yet he found something far more interesting: her subtle shift towards the Prince, which his grey eyes visibly followed with wry amusement. Dimitri had been expecting the chance to study her reaction to Octavien, to assess her own assessment of the Prince. He had hoped to learn from her behaviour something—anything—that might explain the disconcerting thoughts from this morning.

Yet now he was meeting the Duchesse’s eyes himself. Irony of ironies. It was all just illustrative of her unpredictable nature.

He wondered if he had said something that displeased her, to initiate such a move—had he not been able to elicit an almost-smile from her just seconds earlier? Perhaps he had let his disapproval shine through one time too many. There was no hiding it, though. Dimitri thought removing Isabella from the Palace right after Adalita’s funeral to be the worst possible idea. He suspected he would be spending several mornings with the distraught King, now that he was without wife and daughter.

There was also the possibility of poison. Until that option was cleared beyond all doubt, it seemed best to keep the Queen well within reach of the country’s best physicians… Just in case. The only advantage of moving her would be to get her away from the assassin, but if she had been already struck…

But the Duchesse did not know of Adalita’s poisoning, and that made all the difference.

“So Isabella's uncle will be joining you here at the court, he I feel is an able family member and him and Edouard have always gotten along so well, that I feel perhaps his presense will be welcomed even more than my own would...”

He did not recall Edouard mentioning the man in his letters. He would simply have to wait and see who this character was.

For all their cordial talk in these two days, neither had forgotten that there was no real friendship between them, save for that indistinguishable relationship shared between fellow aristocrats. Juliet may have even been aware that the Duc was still residing at Court when the first Queen was alive—even helped deliver some key letters from her shy suitor. Sometimes, that’s all it took to cast a veil of suspicion upon a person.

Dimitri might have said that her absence would be regretted. But it was not in his nature to say something quite so hollow, when he had not spent even a day with the Duchesse. Considering how squarely she looked at him with her frozen eyes, he doubted she would appreciate hearing such meaningless assurances from him, as well.

And so he chose that moment to drink his wine, allowing the Prince—who, it seemed, had not yet earned the Duchesse de Margoles’ infamous ire—to pick up from there.

((Sorry guys, but I'm probably going to have to pull out. After seeing the length of some of these posts, I'd never be able to write that much, and I'm worried that my presence would be detrimental to the RP))

Octavien in BLue Salon w/ Dimitri & Juliet
 

(((ooc: Oh, nice Seiza/Dimitri! Really nice! Just feed him to the sharks, why don't you? )))


No stranger to the sheer power sometimes found in a mere look, there were still times when Octavien would marvel at the effect of a gaze, or even a glance. He had seen, many times, how a changed expression in the eyes could be enough to make people cower, to squirm, to laugh out loud, even cry. Since entering the Blue Salon, he had found himself the target some rather powerful stares, and while they had had an effect on him, none of them had been as potent as the one he saw when briefly looking across the room to where César was standing, and catching the look in his friend's eyes. The most remarkable thing about it, was that César wasn't even looking his way. He was busy nailing the nearest, still seated nobleman to the wall with his piercing stare, and that was what had such an effect on Octavien. In a flash, and although bound to return sooner or later, his well-hidden anxiety drained from him, it vanished as though someone had reached inside his chest and pulled it out like one did a thorn. He had realized that while he may have to fight, and fight hard, to earn the respect of the other courtiers, there were those that stood by his side, and would fight their own little battle in order to ensure that he was treated the way that he, according to them, deserved to be treated.

And, had it not been the most inappropriate time for smiling, a wide one would've spread on his face, born of sheer gratitude, relief and good old-fashioned joy, at having such a loyal friend. In César, and in Joséphine.

"The Queen’s presence is certainly invaluable to the Palace as a whole. The King as well."

Only a few moments had passed since Octavien had fallen silent, and so when Dimtri spoke again and the Prince's eyes immediately turned back to his present company, it would have taken the most hawk-eyed of people to see that it had even strayed at all.

"It will be a shock to the household to see her off, so soon after... well."

Once again silence filled the space between the three, as Dimitri refrained from speaking what was so clearly on everyone's mind already, and instead gestured for one of the servants to bring more wine. Though this time it lasted far longer.

Quite frankly, it was a comment to which Octavien didn't know how to react. He himself had been careful not to label Isabella's pending and temporary absence too much of a loss, as it would seem a rather trivial one in comparison with the permanent loss of Adalita, and an insult to her on this her funeral day, and commemoration.
But then again, he had never felt like more of a bumpkin in his entire life than he did right now, so who was he to critize?

Still, he didn't seem able to shake it off as easily as the Duc and Duchesse did, and so merely listened as the two of them continued the conversation with a change of subject, watching each of them carefully but not overly noticeable, as bumpkin or not, he was still intelligent to pick up on the currents stirring underneath their words and tone of voices.

"I shall naturally be a more constant presence here at the palace", the Duchesse responded to the Duc's inquiry, "but a woman's duty is to her family, and I cannot desert my daughter in her condition, my husband in his position, or in deed the next Duc of Champagne in the stage of life's transition. So Isabella's uncle will be joining you here at the court, he I feel is an able family member and him and Edouard have always gotten along so well, that I feel perhaps his presense will be welcomed even more than my own would..."

Still sitting in silence, now pondering the possible consequences of having yet another friend of the King's, and at the same time another relative of Isabella's present at court, at first Octavien didn't register that a third silence was spreading. Not until his gaze shifted from Juliet to Dimitri, in anticipation of the Duc's reply, only to find that the Duc didn't appear to be about to say anything at all. He was merely sipping his wine, as if expecting someone else to keep the conversation flowing. And there was only one 'someone else' present, who had not already just finished speaking:
Octavien.

Had it been César sitting next to him, casually sipping his wine, Octavien might've hissed a discreet "A little help here?", but sadly, César was on the opposite side of the room, and, it seemed, currently battling quite an awkward situation himself.

Luckily, the afternoon encounter with Joséphine had set Octavien on the path back to his usual, quick-witted self, and so it didn't take him long to rise to the occasion;

"Then perhaps I could persuade to honor me by joining me for tea sometime?" he asked the Duchesse, clearly referring to her statement regarding her own occasional presence at court. "I regret to say I do not know nearly as much about Her Majesty's esteemed family as I feel I should, and want to, and would so love the opportunity to learn."

((Thank you for all being so welcoming! Atropa, She isn't a servant, she just recently bought her freedom and moved from somewhere else into the palace.

Fayreview, I'll just post when it turns morning because I probably wouldn't be able to get a conversation decently going without having to end it early (and it gives me time to think about what to post...not that I don't have more than enough with this stupid Standardized testing *throws booklet on ground and stomps on it*)

César (aka cat on a hot tin roof) w/ Joséphine & Marie-Elisabeth - Blue Salon
 

(((ooc: Elektra - Oh, okay. Just seemed odd to me for a former servant to live in the Palace and be part of the court, since usually not even most wealthy but untitled people were accepted there. But ok, now I know.)))


Try as she may, there was no tea cup in the world that could hide the Comtesse's smirk from César's perceptive gaze as he approached her seated form. Mostly because what defined a smirk did not lay only in the tugging of lips, but in the look in the eyes as well. And her eyes, he could see clearly as she watched him draw closer. The familiar mischievous sparkle was there, as was that mirth and the subtle defiance of those who expected of her to have 'fun' be the last thing on her mind, and it all coaxed César's lips into a faint smirk of their own. Why, one might even think she was glad to see him!

"Why thank you Marquis, I’m flattered", she said and shifted slightly to make room for him, after first setting down the delicate chine cup on the table infront of her, apparently well aware that César appreciated the sight of her smile, and would hardly hold it against her, even at a time and occasion such as this. Then she continued; "But I believe we do just have the one god. The old man in robes with the long white beard, remember?"

"Ah", César nodded, much like one would do when reminded of something one would have realized, if just taking another moment to think.

Just then, the footman by the door announced the arrival of His Royal Highness, the Prince, and César turned his head slightly to watch Octavien's entrance, but while doing so his gaze landed on something else. And stayed there. A wide and considerable display of blatant disrespect among alot of the courtiers, some of whom didn't even bother to rise, but merely gazed languidly as Octavien proceeded across the floor, towards none other than Duc d'Lorraine, and the Duchesse de Margoles.
César had to bite his tongue hard, not to lash out at such behaviour, and instead turned his attention to Octavien, who seemed to handle himself fairly well, considering the immense pressure he was under, and, from what he had told César the previous night, the inexcusably poor schooling he had recieved since made Prince. Though he himself did not judge his new surroundings as hard for not preparing him better for situations such as this. It was César who did, and who nearly exploded as he saw the looks on people's faces, Duc d'Lorraine included. They were all judging Octavien by standards they knew very well he was not accustomed to, and had yet to be schooled to deal with.
Self-rightous bastards.

Much like an older brother, César couldn't help but feel protective of Octavien, and had it done any good whatsoever, he would've opened his mouth and let everyone there know just what he thought of them. But it wouldn't. If anything, it would only make Octavien look bad, for apparently needing an ill-mannered brute of a friend to defend him.

However, there was always later...
They would get theirs, later...

With Octavien finally having been properly and respectfully welcomed by Duc d'Lorraine and Duchesse de Margoles, and sitting down with them, César turned his attention back to the Comtesse, only to have if shift again a moment later, as she had apparently spotted something over his shoulder.

Though before he could turn to find out what it was, a soft and highly familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"Good evening, César."

Joséphine... Oh dear.
For obvious reasons, César had always done his best to keep his mistresses - past, present and possible future ones - and his wife far apart, sometimes even going so far as to forbidding his paramours to even attend an event to which he intended to bring Joséphine.

This... This was why.
Merde!

"May I join you?"

Coming to a halt right next to him, Joséphine's gaze shifted between him and the Comtesse, and César turned to face her, greeting her with a soft smile.

"Of course", he said, frantically trying to think of a good way to excuse himself and Joséphine without it being far too obvious.

As the ladies introduced themselves to one another, one possible excuse after another kept passing through his head, though none of them even remotely satisfactory. He had just told Joséphine she was welcome to join in the conversation, and so he couldn't claim that the Comtesse was just about to retire for the evening, nor could he pretend he himself was about to depart from the young blonde's company. 'Suddenly' seeing someone he wanted to say hello to was far too transparent, and Octavien was clearly not approachable.

No... It would seem he would just have to suffer through this as smoothly as he could for a couple of minutes, and then find an excuse for him and Joséphine to leave.
Thankfully, it seemed Marie-Elisabeth was willing to play along.

"I had the pleasure of meeting the Comtesse at breakfast yesterday", César said, deciding that if he was to do this, the best way would be to do it properly, with the same courtesy he would've used, had the Comtesse been just anyone. "Would you believe, she just recently arrived here herself?"


(((ooc: If it's messy, I'm sorry. So tired I can't see straight. Which is also why I may or may not elaborate a little tomorrow. What he says and does will still remain the same though, so it won't affect any possible replies.

slytherin - Can't keep my mouth shut. Just saw your pics in the Random Pics thread, with the portraits of Marie-Antoinette and, more importantly, Axel von Fersen, and... Can I just say "squeeee! :clap: ". One of my favorite historical people. Right up there with Marie-Antoinette and Anne Boleyn. Just finished this Swedish biography on him. GREAT read.
Ok, now I'll shut up. :mute: )))

(((OOC: Thankies We seem to be creepily alike, Anne and Marie are my absolute favourites too I'm a nut for them, that's probably why I joined this in the first place. And I just pretend all the portraits of her are Marie-Elisabeth, and Fersen is Charles about 40 years ago LMAO

EDIT: UGH Seiza, save your money and don;t go see it (other boleyn girl) it sucked big time, as such an avid Tudors/Anne fan I was horrified)))

((Ooooh! Seiza, Bismarck hey? I am taking history with the most boring teacher under the son just so I can learn about him :D))


Sadly Atropa I do not have time to reply right now, but I shall when I get home from school it will be accompainied by a visit from Edouard, and perhaps the shell that is Isabella without Shenan But as you know this evening we will be getting a new thread.... which is really all there is to say on that matter, other than I shall be taking content from here and Eteternal's thread to make it up, it won't be original.

Oh and I hate to be the bearer of irritating news, but re-applications for all! I feel that with a new thread there's always a chance to atract more people to the thread, and if we are all going to be applying I feel that will be so much easier on anyone coming in. Not that it stopped Elektra, but with Atropa's subtle advertising for the forum we want to be the best we can be.

Finally i would like to announce that our influx of new characters is up to three (/four hmmm Ghanima how long will you make us wait?) With FurryPanda, Elektra, and Lady Charmaine de Mollier, my own second character.

Ciao

Fayre))

Marie-Elisabeth, César, et Joephine: The Blue Salon
 

Marie-Elisabeth was far from un perceptive. It was easy for her to be able to tell what people were thinking and feeling, often just based on their body language. When you grew up in a family as large as hers, you made it a habit to watch people and learn these kinds of things whether you wanted to or not. That was how she would figure out if Marie-Josephine was in the mood to do her schoolwork for her or if Leopold could be persuaded to take her out riding.

And right now, even though her surprisingly polite manner was hiding it well, the woman was sending out clear “I do not like you” signals. Marie-Elisabeth could well understand why, but if the woman wanted to play the polite game, then that is just what they would do.

“Why yes, it is most fortunate to meet someone one has things in common with” said Marie-Elisabeth, smiling and momentarily directing her gaze over to the increasingly uncomfortable looking César. He looked as though he wanted to be just about anywhere else, and Marie-Elisabeth could certainly relate. It seemed as though yesterday's ....interesting conversations wouldn't be repeated again uninterrupted any time soon.

“Although not as much in common as I’d like. I’ve arrived very much alone, as I decided it was better for my son to stay at home with his tutors” she said, looking back at Josephine “You’re both very lucky to have your children here with you. I wish my little Charles could be here, but he’s got so much to learn it was near impossible for him to come here”.


(((OOC: I’ve got my app all copied and pasted, and slightly edited, for the next one. It’s no problem to me. I won’t even get into the dozens of reasons that movie stank (which include ridiculous historical inaccuracies, awful acting, and the non existence of a crucial historical figure).

And any random names in here are Marie-Elisabeth’s siblings. She’s one of 16 and yes they do all have names and yes I'm a total weirdo about that LOL)))

((Ghanima i did mean the character you were tempting us with and by all means post in the new thread, and Seiza, when i posted her app a while ago I mentioned she is married to the Cousin of the Duc de Mollier, great thing is now that is perfectly legit, because I say so ... absolute power corrupts absolutely so you guys should remember to yank me back from driving you all mad.

I shall begin to edit with a post as soon as this is posted

Ok officially my last Roleplay post here in the Shenanigans Epoch thread.))

Juliet had watched the Duc for what she felt was a reasonable length of time to make him realise that he had been slightly too obvious when notioning he felt she had done the wrong thing when the Prince spoke to her.

"Then perhaps I could persuade to honor me by joining me for tea sometime? I regret to say I do not know nearly as much about Her Majesty's esteemed family as I feel I should, and want to, and would so love the opportunity to learn."

Perhaps the boy was trying too hard, but he was polite and either way he WAS trying, Juliet smiled at him. "I would personally consider it such a pleasure to spend that time with you, my husband's family history is so very interesting."

There was then one of those rare moments when a syncronised conversation lull swept the room, blanketed each person in the Blue Salon, everyone seemed to have run out of things to say, or reached for wine goblets, pastry plates or tea cups, the silence travelled across the room but fell just short of the doors, which creaked ever so slightly as they swung open.

"Your Royal Highnesses, King Edouard and Queen Isabella." The doorman announced the couple and the silent courtiers turned to watch the Royal pair, flanked by servants, including the indespensible Margaret and Baroness Venn who moved away from them, and out of the sight of the Nobles who followed the King and Queen, as thery moved to stand in front of the white marble fire place. Juliet was on her feet in an instant, but sensing her daughter was only there whilst her husband spoke, she stayed in her place between the Duc and Prince whom along with everyone else in the room was now standing.

"My wife and I are so touched you have all joined us tonight to celebrate the life of my daughter, your princess. It was shocking to lose her, and it is hard to talk about however I must remain strong for you, the essense of my Kingdom, my Loyal friends, family and countrymen." He motioned from person to person, with an indication towards his wife's mother with the word "family" no longer having anyone really to point to.

"By now I am sure you are all aware my Queen will be departing from the court, temporarily to spent some time with her family and recuperate as her health has been slightly off in recent weeks. My final words for this evening are to ask for a few moments in honour of my daughter and all other children who are lost before their time."

The silence that had only been shattered by the voice of the King was returned and maintained as people looked at floor, in apparent quiet complacency... but in the Palace of Light and Air who knows what they were really thinking...

((Good Night Courtiers ))

Marie-Elisabeth
 

“It must be difficult for you, Comtesse, being separated from your son,” she had said, and Marie-Elisabeth had nodded in agreement. “It is” she said quietly, before the entrance of the King and Queen forced everyone into silence.

She was beginning to think it might have been better to just stay in her room and read the letters after all because it seemed like the whole world was against her having any fun whatsoever. First she ran into the disapproving Duc d'Lorraine, then got sidetracked by Baroness Venn, and now Josephine.

Marie-Elisabeth hadn’t missed the hint, nor had she missed the way the woman was all but screaming at her to go away. Which was precisely what Marie-Elisabeth intended on doing. She had made her appearance, and now that the King and Queen had departed she saw no reason to stay. “Well you’re going to have to excuse me now” she said, rising from the couch and smoothing out her wrinkled skirts “It has gotten quite late and I’ve got an important letter to read before I retire for the evening”. At least that wasn’t actually a lie, she did want to read her sister’s letter before she went to bed. But it also seemed like a perfect excuse to leave and she wanted one.

“It was lovely to meet you Marquise, I hope you have a pleasant evening” she said, before turning to César. “And to you to Marquis” she added before turning and exiting the salon.

She walked through the hallways to her own rooms and shut the door behind her with a rather satisfying banging noise. Her maids quickly came in and undressed her, leaving her wearing nothing but her nightgown. She dismissed them and walked over to pick up the unopened letter from her sister, before getting into bed.

Marie-Elisabeth carefully opened the letter before snuggling into the pillows to read it.


To my dearest of Sisters,

Lisabeth, whatever do you think you’re doing going to the palace and not inviting me. Just thinking of all those beautiful gowns and jewels makes me positively green with envy, not to mention the company I’m sure you’ll find yourself surrounded by. This is you that we speak of; those of the male gender always did flock to you like bees to sugar.

Not that I could have come if you had remembered me. I swear I’m so enormous it takes 5 men to move me these days. I’ve become convinced there’s got to be twins in here because I was never this big with the other 7. Ferdinand thinks so too and he’s hoping for a pair of sons to balance the family out. I’m just hoping this is the last one, because I don’t know how many more children little old me can handle.

So you must tell me all the good gossip. Being cooped up out here in the country I never hear anything. Have you seen the royal family yet, what are they like?

You write back to me soon or else I’ll come there and tell everyone about the time when you were 4 and you fell off your horse into a mud puddle.

Love you always, your sister

Marie-Caroline, Baroness de Sicilie


Marie-Elisabeth couldn’t help but laugh as she read her sister’s letter. She never failed to put her in a good mood, even if it was something as simple as a letter. She leaned over and placed it carefully back on the nightstand, unclasping her locket and settling it on top of it.

She then snuggled back into the mountain of pillows and quickly fell asleep, resolving to write letters back first thing in the morning.

Posting for non-purge purposes.